Fauxmance

  Ellen was quiet for a long moment, her head tilted up to study me. “I’m probably going to regret this, but would you like to come inside for a cup of tea?”

  I gave her a soft smile, something unfurling in my chest at the offer. She was clearly going out of her way to be kind to me, when all she probably wanted to do was close herself inside her house and wish the world away.

  “I’d love to.”

  She opened the door so I could step in by her, and I was instantly met with a beautiful hand-painted mural of climbing roses. It started at the door and meandered up the antique staircase.

  “Do you live here on your own?” I asked.

  She seemed hesitant to answer. “Yes, I, uh, inherited the place from my Grandma.”

  “It’s a beautiful building.”

  She nodded. “I’m very lucky.”

  Ellen led me into an even more impressive kitchen. It had a large modern window that looked out into a fairy forest of a back garden. There were hanging lights and twisty vines climbing the walls, overgrown plants, and wildflowers all over. The forest theme seemed to extend into the kitchen as there were plants everywhere. Another mural encapsulated the back wall, this one of a cherry blossom tree. I wondered who the artist was. The painting fanned out around a large, intricate brass cage, inside of which were two exotic looking birds.

  Seriously, who lived in a house like this? The Grandma story aside, Ellen was hiding something.

  I walked up to the birdcage to admire her stunning creatures. “Hello there.”

  “Their names are Skittles and Rainbow,” Ellen said quietly. “They’re lovebirds.”

  I tilted my head to her. “Is it true that they mate for life?”

  “Most of them do, yes.”

  “Why lovebirds?” I turned to give her my full attention now. It was strange that I’d thought Elodie was the interesting one because I was starting to suspect her sister had hidden depths.

  She glanced at the floor, lifted a shoulder, then said, “They make such strong bonds. They’re happy to sit side by side, day in and day out. There’s something lovely yet heartbreaking about it.”

  I took a step closer to her. “Heartbreaking?”

  When she spoke, her voice was still so quiet, like she wasn’t used to having long conversations. “If one of them dies, they mourn just like humans mourn loved ones.”

  “That is heartbreaking,” I said in agreement. The tip of her nose was red from crying, and again, I had a strong urge to comfort her, give her a hug. I knew how it felt to be overwhelmed by the world. I resisted though. Ellen was a little like a bird herself. I felt if I got too close she’d fly away.

  “And the monogamy?”

  “I guess if humans could be as simple as lovebirds, there’d be a lot less broken hearts in the world.”

  At this, I warmed to her, because she was so like Rose. My best friend believed firmly in monogamy, in having sex with someone you were in love with, and though I disagreed, I could appreciate the romanticism of the concept. I personally thought sex could be amazing so long as there was mutual respect. Love didn’t have to come into it. You could meet someone, have an incredible night, then never see them again. There didn’t always have to be strings.

  Ellen turned and went to put the kettle on. She wore a baggy jumper and leggings, her hair piled up in a bun. I took a seat at her table and clasped my hands together.

  “What happened today to upset you?” I asked gently.

  I had no business asking such a sensitive question. But like I said, I felt I knew her even though I didn’t. She had Elodie’s face and a heart like Rose.

  Her cheeks coloured, and she appeared embarrassed. “Nothing. I’m not upset.”

  I held her gaze, my eyes telling her I saw through the lie. “When I was a teenager, I caught an ex-girlfriend out on a date with someone I considered a close friend. I was so upset I went home and cried my eyes out. We all do it. Even men.”

  Some of her embarrassment faded. “I’ve always hated large groups of people. I feel like I can’t breathe.”

  My voice held affection. “You picked the worst city to live in.”

  She sniffed and looked up at the ceiling. “When I decided to move here, I thought it would be better, that I could be whoever I wanted, leave the old me behind. Pretty silly since I didn’t change one bit. Most days I don’t even leave the house.” Her eyes flared, like she hadn’t meant to admit that. If she spent most of her time alone in this big house, then her fear and suspicion of me made even more sense.

  “Don’t worry. There’s very little you can say that would shock me.”

  “You’ve seen it all, huh?” she practically whispered.

  “And then some. A lot I wish I could unsee.”

  We stared at one another, a moment of understanding passing between us, even though our experiences in life were probably far different. She finished making the tea and set a cup down in front of me.

  “I’ve been making a lot of selfish choices lately,” Ellen revealed, then shook her head at her herself. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. You have a pull, do you know that?”

  I placed my hands around the cup. “I’ve been told I’m easy to talk to because I don’t judge.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I don’t usually talk to strangers, not as…never mind. The point is, I like talking to you, even though I know I shouldn’t.”

  “Why shouldn’t you?”

  “Because it frightens me. You’re a stranger, too. I shouldn’t have let you in here. It’s reckless.”

  “Yes, it is reckless. Luckily, I mean you no harm. Besides, we should always do the things that frighten us, Ellen. Except for jumping off cliffs.”

  She gave a tiny laugh, and it pleased me to see her smile, even if it was only a small one. “Indeed. I can’t believe Bernice gave you my ticket. Like I said, you’re a complete stranger. What was she thinking?”

  “My friend Rose was with me at the time. She has a very trustworthy face.”

  Ellen arched a brow. “Not you?”

  “Nope. I have the face of a rapscallion.”

  Her tinkering laugh was light and airy, the laugh of someone relieved not to be feeling so anxious anymore. It felt good to put her at ease. “Do you know what, you do! I really don’t know why I let you into my house. I need to get my head checked.”

  “Looks perfectly fine to me.”

  “You haven’t seen inside it.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s a mess in here.”

  “I like messes. They’re interesting.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got an answer for everything?”

  “It’s my party trick. So, you and Elodie grew up in Devon. What was that like?”

  She looked away, took a sip of her tea. I wondered at the shutters that suddenly closed behind her eyes. “It was quiet. Peaceful. Too quiet sometimes.”

  “I can understand that. Rose lives most of the year on a remote Scottish Island. When I visit it’s so quiet, I have trouble getting to sleep. I’m used to the constant buzz of city noise.”

  She appeared interested by this. “You don’t find it stressful? I mean, I hate too much quiet, but the noise can be just as bad.”

  My expression sobered. “I guess I sometimes prefer the noise because then I don’t have to listen to my thoughts.”

  She leaned closer, her brown eyes unfathomably big. “What kinds of thoughts?”

  I met her gaze levelly. “Bad thoughts.”

  A beat of silence fell. We both startled when there was a ding on her doorbell. Ellen stood. “I better go get that.”

  She left, and I looked around her kitchen, a feeling of discomfort in my chest. Ellen wasn’t the only one who felt a pull, because I’d revealed more to her than I did to most people. There was an innocence about her, an openness that felt safe.

  I heard the front door open and indistinct voices. I got up and went over to admire Ellen’s lovebirds again, smiling to mysel
f. Unlike most, I didn’t judge others for having different beliefs to mine. In fact, I respected people more when they believed in something fiercely. Monogamy was an idea almost as old as my profession. It was something I’d always struggled with personally, and for years I berated myself for not being able to conform, to simply pick a woman and settle down. That sense of shame was something I had to disconnect from if I didn’t want to drown in it.

  Now I allowed myself the freedom to live in a way that felt right for me. It was the only way I knew how. Still, the simplicity and innocence of the idea of searching for one true love, for a soul mate, was something that always made my chest ache.

  It was like believing in angels. You wanted them to be real so badly, but your common sense wouldn’t allow you to indulge in the folly.

  I wished love at first sight, soul mates, and being destined for one single person was real, because it was a romantic, idealistic fairy tale. And I envied Ellen for her ability to believe.

  But I, well, I’d had my eyes opened too many times in this life to still believe in fairy tales.

  The front door closed, and I went out to check on Ellen. It appeared she’d had a delivery because there were several large, heavy-looking boxes on the floor.

  “Need some help?” I asked, and she blew out a breath, hands on her hips.

  “Please, if it’s not too much trouble, could you help me carry these upstairs?”

  “No trouble at all,” I said and went to pick up a box. I was right, it was heavy. “What’s in here?” I asked as I climbed the stairs.

  “Just, um, some new bits of furniture I ordered online,” she said, sounding oddly sheepish.

  I left one box on the landing, then went down to get the next. When I’d brought all three boxes upstairs, I turned to go back down, and my gaze caught on something in one of the bedrooms. The door was ajar and carefully placed on a stand on the dressing table was a wig—a red-haired wig to be exact. I frowned, because it was practically identical to Elodie’s hair. I froze on the step, staring at it, mind racing.

  “What’s wrong?” Ellen asked, traversing several steps. She frowned as she followed the direction of my gaze. I heard her sharp intake of breath when she realised what I was looking at.

  I turned to her in confusion.

  “Elodie?”

  Chapter Six

  Ellen

  Crap, crap, crap!

  As soon as Julian uttered the name “Elodie” I started to shake. My throat ran dry and the ability to speak evaded me. I’d been caught. Embarrassment and shame threatened to fill me whole.

  “You’re Elodie, aren’t you?” he said, closing the distance between us. He didn’t appear angry, which was a good sign, but he did look incredibly confused, and a tiny bit…well, intrigued.

  Who the hell was this guy? And why on earth did I invite him into my house? Ever since I invented Elodie, I’d been having these strange, catastrophic urges, destined to lead to dire consequences. It was like I’d spent so long living this quiet, hermit life that something in my subconscious yearned for the thrill of disaster.

  I turned and walked back down the stairs, reached for the front door and pulled it open. I ducked my head when I whispered, “Please go.”

  He walked down the final few steps. I felt his gaze burn into me, but I was too mortified to look him in the eye.

  “Ellen, you can talk to me. I told you, I don’t judge.” His voice was soft, understanding, but that just made it so much worse. I wished for him to be mean so that I could feel justified in kicking him out, but he had to go and be nice about it. Ugh!

  I kept my voice firm. “I said leave.”

  For a second, he didn’t move. I sensed a struggle in him before he finally walked to the door. Unable to resist, perhaps because I was a glutton for punishment, I lifted my gaze to his. All I saw was sympathy and my face grew hot. He felt sorry for me, probably thought I was some sad loser who got her kicks from pretending to be someone she wasn’t. And let’s face it, that was the truth.

  “If you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

  Yes, I did know where to find him. Tuesday mornings at the Polka Dot Café. A sense of loss filled me to realise I couldn’t ever go there again, not as Elodie anyway. The jig was up, and Julian was certain to tell Suze all about his discovery.

  Suze!

  A feeling of grief clutched me. I didn’t want to lose her.

  Julian left and I slammed the door shut, lowered myself to the floor and dropped my head into my hands. What a mess. That tense, awful feeling of chagrin trickled its way through me. It seared my insides, leaving humiliation in its wake. Julian was one of the most fascinating men I’d ever met. No, he was the most fascinating man I’d ever met, and now he saw me for what I really was.

  A fraud.

  I needed to get my shit together, quit pretending, finish writing my book, and be a responsible adult again. I needed to throw away my fanciful ideas about Elodie, quit lying to people and get back to being the socially inept hermit that was in my DNA.

  Being myself was safe, and safe was what I needed to be.

  So why did I feel like I’d lost a vital part of myself?

  I got a text later that evening from Bernice, asking if Julian and Rose had dropped my ticket off. I didn’t tell her that it was just Julian, nor did I complain to her about giving my personal property to two virtual strangers. Sure, it was only a ticket, but still!

  All day Sunday I wallowed and tried to get over the intense feeling of mortification. Of being exposed. To have someone know you pretended, to know you dreamt up this fantasy and tried to make it real, was worse than being discovered as a fake.

  On Monday I had an early shift at the bookshop. I opened up and a number of customers came and went. At around eleven thirty, I was stacking shelves when the door chimed open. My gut dropped, and the small hairs on my arms stood on end. Julian walked in wearing dark slacks, a forest green shirt with several buttons undone, and a black velvet blazer. He had this sort of grown-up Peter Pan style going on (ironic, I know). I was certain it wouldn’t work for anyone else on this planet other than him.

  Why hadn’t he given up on me yet? It made no sense. Upon further consideration, I’d decided Julian most likely wasn’t a book critic seeking to “out” me. On Saturday, three boxes of books had arrived at my house and he’d barely given them a second glance as he carried them upstairs. If he were trying to discover my true identity, he would’ve taken the opportunity to peruse the sender details, since my publisher’s name and address was right there on the boxes.

  But if he wasn’t on a secret investigation, then why was he so interested? Why did he continue seeking me out? It certainly wasn’t for my glowing personality, and now that he knew Elodie didn’t exist, it most definitely wasn’t for my good looks.

  On instinct, I ducked down behind the bookshelf and hid, hoping he’d leave. I spied on him through a crack between the books and watched as he placed two takeaway coffee cups down on the counter. The edge of his mouth curved in a smile when he said, “I can see you hiding over there.”

  Great. As if I needed anything else to be embarrassed about with this man. Inhaling a deep breath, I mustered some self-respect, rose and dusted my hands off on my jeans.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Bringing coffee to my new friend. You take it with milk, no sugar, yes?”

  I narrowed my gaze and walked around him to the counter. He’d gotten takeout from the Polka Dot, and their coffee was my favourite. The rich aroma invaded my nostrils and it was so hard not to pick it up and down it.

  “Thank you, but I’ve already had my coffee for today.”

  “Go wild, have another,” he encouraged with an impish grin.

  “I can’t. Too much caffeine gives me heart palpitations.”

  “Ellen, if you don’t drink it, I’m going to have to throw it away, and wasting coffee is a sin even a degenerate such as myself refuses to commit.”

/>   Gah! Why did he have to be so amiable? The glint in his eye was impossible to resist.

  “Fine,” I allowed. “But only because I wouldn’t want that sin weighing on your conscience.”

  I lifted the cup and Julian took the other, still grinning at me as he brought it to his mouth. Okay, so he was an inordinately sexy person. This was something I noticed about him from the beginning. He exuded sex appeal in a subtle way that had nothing to do with his clothes or his looks. It was an energy that surrounded him. It was a freedom and comfort in his own skin few were lucky enough to possess. Maybe that was why I felt such a draw to him. He was everything I wished I could be. Everything I was pretending to be as Elodie.

  We drank our coffee in silence and the shop door opened. A middle-aged man walked in and didn’t spare us a second glance as he headed for the History section.

  “Can we talk about the elephant in the room?” Julian ventured, and I blinked at him, bristling.

  “No, I’d actually rather not.”

  “Why though? I’m honestly fascinated.”

  “What am I? Some sort of sideshow? Do you take pleasure in ridiculing crazy people?”

  “I’m not ridiculing you, not at all. And besides, if anyone here is crazy, it’s me.”

  I eyed him speculatively and chewed on my lip. “What do you mean?”

  “My mother has been living in an assisted care facility for the last thirteen years. I also suffer from the same illness, however I manage to function in the outside world far better than she.”

  Mental illness? Was that why he was here trying to befriend me when anyone else would’ve run a mile? I wanted to question him, but I didn’t have it in me. Despite the fact he’d shared the information, it still felt too personal.

  “You’re very candid,” I said and placed my cup down on the counter.

  “I try to be.”

  Hmm, perhaps I should take a leaf out of his book. “Why are you so interested in me?”

  His eyes held mine captive. “Don’t sell yourself short, Ellen. You’re a very unusual person. Not at all what most would imagine at first glance. That’s why I’m here. I like interesting people and that is what I find you to be. Besides, we live close to one another, frequent the same coffee establishment. It’d be a shame not to become friends.”